All To Myself Page 3

  “It’s fine, and stop looking at me like that,” she said as she dug into the bottom of her bowl for the butterscotch. “I remember when you broke your finger. You put duct tape on it, and now you can’t flip the bird at your buddies down at the Legion hall. My leg is fine.”

  “You got a boyfriend now?”

  Rory shook her head and stuffed a spoonful of ice cream and butterscotch in her mouth. She almost lost feeling in her body, it was that good. Like most everything else at Garden View, both the ice cream and the butterscotch was homemade.

  “Nope. Not since I gave Sinclair the boot.”

  “Who has the green car that was up at your place the other night?”

  Arrgh!

  “What green car?”

  “I took Owl out for a drive,” he explained. Owl was his black lab and constant companion, currently tied to a post on the riverbank while he snoozed. “A guy was up there with your bike. I thought he was stealing it, so I pulled up and got his business. He said you asked him to bring it back. He said he was your friend, but he turned red as a tomato when he said it.”

  “Probably because some angry guy in striped suspenders was barking at him,” she teased. “He works with me. Kind of. His dad owns The White Tip now.”

  “Christ.” The word came out of Cecil like a loogie from the back of his throat.

  The Hylands weren’t exactly newcomers to the island. Noah’s grandfather, Gregory Hyland had been general manager of The White Tip when it had been the Queen Anne Hotel and it had been for Gregory that Cecil began his long history with the hotel. In his later years, Cecil had worked for Noah’s father. He had a begrudging respect for the Hylands in the decade he had called senior and junior Hylands his boss, but he still called him an asshole.

  “He’s the one who drove me home after my accident. He’s a nice guy.”

  That’s all she was going to say about Noah Hyland. She hadn’t worked the previous night. It was one of only two Saturdays in the summer she got off, and so she hadn’t had a chance to find out whether he’d actually visit her at the bar. When she’d gotten home on Friday night her bike was tucked under the porch, and there it stayed all Saturday while she sprawled on the sofa and alternated hot and cold compresses on her knee.

  “Nice looking,” her grandfather said.

  She raised a brow at him. “Yeah.”

  “Nice car.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Lots of money.”

  “I know where this is going, and you can stop right there,” she said. “I told you, he’s not my boyfriend. He’s barely my friend.”

  “I’m just checking. You won’t take my money, and I want to make sure you’re not letting him spend it on you.”

  “Drink your wine, you old fart.”

  After she’d packed him up a rhubarb pie and given Owl a good rub behind the ears, she waved him off and returned to work. As she served up pots of tea and slices of pie, she smiled to herself as she thought of the exchange between her grandfather and Noah. She would have loved to have been there, to see the what the fuck look face as this sixty five year-old man with a beer gut interrogated him.

  At the end of her shift, she biked back home for a quick shower and a bite to eat before heading to The White Tip. Weekly bookings ran Sunday-to-Sunday, so she expected a busy dinner service with newcomers who just wanted to relax after a long drive. She didn’t mind, since Francie took weekends off and wouldn’t be hovering around looking for an ass to kiss or to be a pain in.

  She took her break and stood outside with her co-workers while they smoked cigarettes and chugged cold sodas. A plan was made to hit the beach afterward. Upon returning to the bar, she discovered Noah waiting for her.

  Sitting with his chin propped on his hand and his eyes on the muted television above the bar, he didn’t notice her approach. She got a chance to check him out without the agony of a bleeding leg or his playful scrutiny, and it struck her how good looking he really was when he wasn’t trying.

  It also struck her how grown-up he came off now compared to previous years. At twenty-three, he seemed to have shed all of his boyishness and was all man. He sat with confidence, not swagger. He looked like any other man who was at the end of a long work day, not a teenager who was getting ready to burn off with booze, drugs, and sex.

  He greeted her with a relieved smile when she slipped behind the bar.

  “Here you are. I was waiting for you.”

  “I was just outside for a minute. What can I get for you?”

  He studied the taps in front of him. “A glass of ….. Red Cliff, and a midnight drive with you when you finish your shift.”

  Her heart thumped and her hand shook a little as she collected a pedestal glass from beneath the bar. “You don’t fuck around, do you? What happened to the flirting?”

  “I sat here for two hours last night before I figured out you weren’t working. All the lines I had rehearsed in my head seem lame now. You made me second guess myself, and now the midnight drive is the best I can do.”

  She filled his glass full of amber ale and place it on a coaster in front of him. “You must be losing your touch.”

  “Are you going to say yes?”

  “I’m not going to say yes.”

  He seemed to be smacked across the face with her rejection. His raised his brows and clearly fought for words. She felt bad for him, and she wanted to say yes more than she was willing to admit it to herself, but she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t be the townie who opened her legs for the gorgeous rich boy from away.

  His mouth made all sorts of shapes before he cleared this throat and gave himself a shake. He drew his beer closer, turning it so the logo faced him, and chuckled. “I really don’t know why I expected you to just say yes.”

  “Because you rarely hear ‘no’ from women.”

  “I ... apparently so.”

  “Sorry, but I’m really not looking for a summer hook-up. Even if I was, I don’t have time for a summer hook-up. I work two jobs.”

  A wounded look passed over his face. It came and went so quickly that if it hadn’t left that queer heavy feeling in her stomach she would have doubted it had been there to begin with.

  One of the newer waitresses bobbed up with an order and turned a smile on Noah. Rory rolled her eyes as she prepared a couple of mojito pitchers. Seconds after she shot him down, Noah had bounced right back up with a sly smile and suggestive lines. As soon as the waitress had left, he shifted right back to Rory.

  “Who said I want to hook up? Maybe I like you.”

  “If that was true, you wouldn’t have been flirting right in front of me.”

  “What do you expect me to do? Cry because you shot me down?”

  He spoke these words so seriously she had to take a moment to dissect his tone. There was nothing in it but teasing, and part of her wished he had been caustic. If he came off like an asshole, she wouldn’t feel like such a shit for turning him down.

  “At least wait until I’m out of earshot.” She poured herself some water and took a gulp, then decided to get out of this territory. “How’s the work study going?”

  He laughed. “Improving. I got my ass handed to me yesterday. As soon as I came in, Dad gave me a uniform and told me to make beds. He said he wasn’t wasting another second on me until I worked every department for one day.”

  “Did you actually clean rooms?”

  “And was told I suck at it, but at least now I know how to make hospital corners.”

  Rory overflowed with the giggles. The housekeeping manager had been on the property for thirty years and was known for being a cheerless, no-nonsense woman who ruled her employees with an iron plunger.

  “What about today?”

  “I mowed the lawn, which I did not suck at, but the guys still laughed at me.”

  “Not so shiny on the other side of things, is it?”

  “At least tomorrow I get to shadow the concierge, so I need to bone up on what there is to do around here.”
<
br />   “Good idea. I doubt anyone here is going to be interested in spiked lemonade on the beach.”

  “Laugh now, but you’ll have me behind the bar before the week is out.”

  Rory raise her brows. “You’re not waiting tables?”

  “No one wants me dropping prime rib all over the place.”

  Rory raised her water bottle. “I’ll go easy on you. No ass handing here. Speaking of which, I heard you met my grandfather the other night.”

  “Yes, I did.” His shoulders shook with laughter, and that damned tickle returned in Rory’s belly. He had a delightful smile that took over his whole face. “I can see who taught you to be such a hard ass. He threatened to sic his dog on me.”

  “Owl’s so lazy, the only way he’d attack you is if you were covered in gravy. And what do you mean, hard ass? I’m not a hard ass. You just can’t stand that I won’t do what you want me to do.”

  “And you can’t stand being told what to do.”

  “That’s not true. If I hadn’t been late for work --”

  “Blah, blah, blah. I’m not buying it. Your leg could have been hanging by a tendon and you would have told me you’d shake it off. How is your leg, anyway?”

  She tapped her knee. “A little sore and bruised, but I’m good.”

  “You’re not going to roll up your pant leg and show me? Let me give it another kiss?” The devil was back in his eyes.

  She was certain her whole face lit up as a hot tickle went through her. “Pervert.”

  “If I was going to be a pervert, I’d tell you about all the other parts of you I’d like to be kissing.”

  Rory faltered, and as he hit her with that devouring look she had to look away. They’d been enjoying such a nice rapport that she should have been angry that he had ruined it, but instead she was frustrated with herself for not falling so willingly into his charms.

  “Hey, sorry,” he said suddenly. He looked genuinely ashamed. “I shouldn’t have said that. You made yourself clear, and just because I didn’t like hearing it doesn’t mean I get to be a dick to you.”

  “You weren’t being a dick. “ She leaned on the bar in front of him. “Look, I think you’re a nice guy. You were great to go back and get my bike for me, but I meant what I said. I’ve got a lot on my plate now, and I don’t hook up.”

  He took a drink and pursed his lips together, then nodded as he swallowed. “Fair enough, but that’s not going to stop me from flirting with you. I like the look on your face when I do it.”

  I like how it feels when you do it, she thought, and was struck with disappointment when he laid out a twenty on the bar and she realized he was leaving.

  “Keep the change,” he said, waving her off as she moved to the register.

  “No, you can’t leave me a three hundred percent tip.”

  “Watch me.” He slid off the stool. “If you change your mind about that midnight drive, I’m in the chalet farthest down the beach.”

  “You think I’ll change my mind?”

  He chewed his lip and regarded her with narrow eyes. “Normally I’d say yes, but with you it could go either way. Don’t work too hard.”

  She glanced around the nearly empty lounge and laughed, and watched him until he had disappeared from sight.

  Chapter Three

  At the strip of sand at the far end of the empty White Tip Beach, those who worked at the hotel joined those who had been waiting since their shifts ended. Though she had an early morning at Garden View to look forward to, Rory wouldn’t trade this opportunity as long as she had it.

  The people she worked with at The White Tip were people she had grown up with. They all clung to what was left of adolescence that summer before they parted ways. Some were staying on the island to work, others to go to school. Others, like Rory, were leaving to find their own ways. Since they and all their other friends worked different shifts at different jobs, it was nearly impossible to get together for a party. Going to the beach at midnight allowed them to shake off the day and be silly for a little while.

  By midnight, their group of seven had turned into fifteen. Rory trudged out of the water between Fiona and one of the front desk clerks, Hannah. She knelt down on her towel and twisted the water out of her hair while Hannah lit a joint.

  “We’ve got to figure out a way to get us all together for one night before the end of summer.” Rory rolled from her knees to her ass and shook her head at Hannah’s pass.

  “If I had known grad night was really the last chance, I wouldn’t have drunk so much I puked. I would have enjoyed it a little longer.” Fiona was offered and took a hit. “We could be adults about it and do a barbecue. If we start it at noon until midnight, people will just keep crossing paths.”

  “It’s better than nothing,” Rory concurred.

  Hannah agreed, then grinned. “Will you be inviting your new boyfriend?”

  Fiona cackled as Rory gave her a filthy look. “Please, it wasn’t me. We all saw him parked at the bar tonight and last night.”

  “If he wasn’t such an asshole, I’d say you two make an adorable couple,” Hannah said. “Did you know he’s going to be working the front desk tomorrow?”

  “No, he’s going to help Freddie at the concierge desk,” Rory said.

  “He was mowing lawns today. Had his shirt off. I thought Francie was going to fog up the glass watching him.”

  Rory chuckled. “A beer says she finds a reason to work the evening he’s at the bar. It’ll do her good to get horny. She’ll go home horny for her husband. Maybe she won’t be such a bitch for a few hours.”

  “So, what about Noah?”

  Rory sucked in her annoyance and stood to wipe the sand from her feet. She shuffled into her towel, then stuffed her feet into her sneakers.

  “He’s … a friend.”

  The other two exchanged an eye-roll.

  “Seriously? He’s a nice guy, and he’s here to work.”

  “And he’s dying to get into your pants.”

  “How does that make him different from any other guy? Donald was trying to feel me up in the water a few minutes ago.”

  “Donald tries to feel everyone up,” Hannah countered.

  “And he’s still the first one to show up when someone is in a fix, right?” Rory shook out her towel. “I only just met him, but Noah’s not so bad when you get to know him.”

  “Just make sure you wrap a rubber on his dick if you fuck him.” Fiona passed the remnants of the joint back to Hannah and shook out her hair. “Did anyone bring any beer?”

  “I think Gord brought a growler. Anyway, I’m off.” Rory tucked her towel and sandy clothes into her backpack.

  “It’s supposed to rain tomorrow,” Fiona called. “You need a lift?”

  “Nah, I like riding in the rain.”

  Her knee had gone from swollen to stiff, and getting over the wooden stairs that scaled the dunes proved more of a challenge going up than it had coming down. She headed off down the beach to where the flat boardwalk crossed over the marshlands. She always locked her bike in the trees at the mouth of the circular driveway, and the other end of the beach would spit her out just a short walk from where she had left her wheels.

  As she reached her destination, she glanced further down the sand to where the chalets stuck out from the dunes. The first four were dark, but the outside light of the last was lit. There was movement on the veranda.

  She stood on the slatted boardwalk and chewed on the sudden potential of what she could do next.

  It wouldn’t hurt to take a little drive. At least you wouldn’t have to bike it home in the dark with your knee still a little screwy.

  She didn’t believe it. Of course, she didn’t. It would hurt like hell to take a little drive. She found that getting to know him, even in the little time they spent together, had left her with a little urge to get to know more.

  Whether he was looking to get into her pants or not, she was on the same troubled path. Sleeping with him wasn’t the pr
oblem. She could do it and recognize it for the simple fuck it was. If he ignored her the next day, so what? She could ignore him right back.

  The real danger came in the sense that he wasn’t merely looking to screw her, that even if she gave him blue balls he would still want to stop and talk to her, to sit at the bar and flirt all summer. The real danger came in getting to like him too much.

  She’d seen it before. Friends who had started summer romances with cottagers and drove themselves crazy trying to retain that rush via email and video chatting and promises of visits that never happened. It seemed like such a stupid thing to walk into.

  And yet she found herself following the trail leading down to the chalets.

  At some point he must have seen her coming, or heard her. He reclined in a wicker chair, his legs stretched out in front of him and a glass in is hand. A big bottle of cola perspired on a small table next to him.

  “I should have made a bet,” he said as she stepped onto the veranda. “I should have made one hell of a bet that you’d come crawling.”

  “Who’s crawling?” She dropped onto the loveseat that backed up against the cottage wall. “My heart was breaking at the thought of you out here pining over me.”

  He slapped his hand over his heart. “I was. I really was. Why are you wet?”

  “I just came back from the beach.” His gaze dropped to her bandaged knee. She stretched it out and kept the wince off her face. “See? It’s fine.”

  “Yes,” he said, and the corner of his mouth turned up wickedly at the corners. “Yes, it is.”

  The seat beneath her was far from comfortable and she wanted to tuck her legs under it, but she didn’t want to lose that hot gaze he had her under. She tucked her damp hair behind her ear and pointed to the soda. “Can I have some of that?”

  “Help yourself. There are glasses in the kitchen.”

  She slipped off her sneakers and stamped along the patio in her bare feet. Glancing at him as she pulled open the storm door, she caught him with his head tilted and his stare on her bikini clad lower half.